Romeoville? Yep. I’m in Romeoville. Tomorrow I’ll see if there’s a Julietville.
(My daughter just informed me that Joliet used to be called Juliet.)
Spent last night in St. Louis, and had the only mediocre Indian food I’ve ever had. Previously, Indian food was like a cross between religion and sex. Surprising and delightful.
This was Luby’s cafeteria quality. And the waiters were surly and slow. I’m pretty sure I won’t go back to St. Louis again, and damn sure I’ll never go back to that restaurant.
Then, across and up Illinois to Romeoville, which is a suburb of Chicago, I think.
South of Chicago, the state is pretty much unoccupied. And, unlike Chicago, pretty redneck. I saw a bunch of “America First” and Trump signs… not sure what for. It’s like he and his followers still can’t believe he actually successfully stole the election.
I’m still not used to the trees turning colors… wondering if there’s something wrong with them. Are they ok?
As I approached Peoria (singing B.B. King: “she said she gonna leave me in Peoria Illinois…) the traffic got thick and dangerous. Going the speed limit just pissed ’em off.
And, for the 4th day in a row, as the sun started to go down a greasy drizzle pizzled on my 4runner, streaking the windshield and making the road slick.
Could be a sign.
Tomorrow, Chicago.
